They were basically professional voyeurs, at least part of the time. The followed people, trailed them, staked out offices and homes and apartments where mistresses were stashed. They sat in cars, in bars, stood on streets and in alleyways, always watching, learning, spying. It was necessary, and also most of the time it was boring as hell.

Some days they had to play voyeur with each other. He'd sit at the bar and watch her work, watched her flirt, and dance, touch and caress and massage the situation to get what she needed.

And maybe sometimes he watched her when she wasn't working. He wasn't some crazy stalker, or some pathetic lovelorn bastard. He just glanced up at her windows when he parked outside and sometimes he saw her.

Like tonight, when she was laughing, really laughing, at something her stupid lawyer boyfriend said. He didn't really think Scott could be that funny. She was wearing one of Scotty boy's fancy button down shirts, he saw her thighs when she settled on Scott's lap on the couch. She looked happy, and that's what she deserved, that's what he wanted for her.

He got out of the car before he saw any more, letting himself into her building and taking the stairs. He knocked on her door and waited, heard them moving around in the apartment.

Scott opened the door, giving Dean a tight smile.

"She'll be out in a minute," he offered and Dean nodded, stepping into the apartment.

Jaimie came out of the bathroom in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt of Scott's from law school, her message wasn't subtle, but then, she wasn't subtle. And she was clearly Scott's.

"What's going on?" she asked, arms wrapped around her chest.

"We've got a job," Dean offered.

Scott glanced between the two of them. "I'll go."

Jaimie sighed. "I'll call you later."

She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. Scott grabbed his jacket when she pulled away, picking some files up off the coffee table before walking past Dean and leaving.

Jaimie watched him go and then slowly turned to Dean. "So what's the job?"

8888888888

"Where's Scotty boy?" Dean asked, following Jaimie into her apartment the next night.

"His place," she murmured, dropping her gun next to her keys. She shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it onto a chair. "I told him it made more sense for him to stay there until the job was done."

Dean nodded. "Job's done."

"It's late," she said, pulling off her boots. "I'll call him in the morning."

"Everything okay?"

"Everything's great," she answered.

"You were a real badass tonight, sweetheart," he murmured. "You did great."

She smiled. "It was fun."

"Hell yeah it was."

She walked into the kitchen, reaching for glasses and a bottle of tequila.

"I finally feel like I know what I'm doing," she said, settling on the couch, curling up. "Like I'm good at it."

"You're great," he said, pouring them both drinks.

"You really think so?" she asked, studying him.

He nodded, handing her a glass. "I think you'll be better than I could ever be."

"Dean," she said softly.

"It's true."

He moved slowly forward until he could kiss her, softly at first. He took her glass, putting it on the table in front of them, cupping her face, fingers moving to tangle in her hair. She tasted like tequila and they were on her couch and it was like the first time, except that it wasn't, it was old and familiar and new and exciting all at once. She crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him more deeply.

He lifted her up, shedding both of their clothing and carrying her over the bed. He laid her down carefully, looking down at her. The look in her eyes, something more than just lust and desire and wanting, something like need, maybe even more than that, was too much. He pressed a kiss to her lips, brushing her hair off of her forehead as he pushed inside of her.

She was everything, she was perfect, and she was someone else's, but at the moment, it didn't feel like that, at the moment she was with him, she was choosing him, even if it wouldn't last til morning.

88888888

Sunlight was pouring in through the windows, warm on his skin, when Dean finally pushed out of Jaimie's embrace, out of her bed, and picked his clothes up. Jaimie rolled on to her side, sheet wrapped around her body as she watched him.

"I need a shower," he murmured, studying her for a moment before leaning over the bed to kiss her.

She sighed. "I need coffee."

He smiled, walking into the kitchen and flipping on her coffee maker. "I'll bring you a mug after my shower."

"Careful," she said. "You almost seem domesticated."

He wasn't sure how to respond so he didn't, beyond a chuckle. He disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the water, dropping his clothes in the corner and stepping under the spray.

He heard Scott's voice when he got out of the shower and froze, listening through the walls.

"I just need to grab a couple of files," the man said.

Jaimie's response was muffled.

"How's the job going?" Scott asked.

"It's almost done," Jaimie murmured. "You should be able to come back tonight."

"Funny," Scott said. "See, I stopped by last night to pick these ups and you and your little friend Dean were putting on quite the show, he was taking off all your clothes, so I'm a little interested in what exactly this job you have requires. You sure you're a cop?"

"Scott," she said softly.

"I would really like to see how you're going to talk your way out of this one."

Dean pulled on his clothes and when he opened the door to the bathroom, Jaimie was standing there, hand pressed to the bright red mark on her cheek.

"What did you do?" Dean demanded, advancing towards Scott.

"Dean," Jaimie protested weakly.

He shook her head. "What the hell did you do?" he snapped.

It only took one punch and Scott was on the ground but that wasn't enough, Dean hit him, again and again.

"Did your parents ever teach you not to hit a girl?" Dean spat.

"Stop," Jaimie said, her hands on his shoulders. "Dean, stop. You'll kill him."

Dean shook his head, staring down at the other man's bloodied face before slowly sitting back, breathing heavily.

Jaimie stared at Scott, her hands still on Dean's shoulders.

"You should go, Scott," she said quietly. "Just get out."

Scott stared at her. "Have fun with your little psycho boyfriend," he muttered.

Dean looked up at Jaimie once he was gone. "You need ice."

She touched the mark on her cheek. "It's fine," she said, sinking to the bed. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he muttered.

"I'll be fine. How's your hand?"

He stared at his bloody knuckles. "I've had worse."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to drag you into my whole soap opera."

"I've been pretty entrenched in your drama for awhile now sweetheart," he said, smiling at her. "Looks like I need another shower. You coming with me this time?"

He stood up, offering her his hand. She took it, let him pull her to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned up and into his kiss.

"You're gonna be okay," he murmured.

She nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "I'll be fine."